3

by Jacob Z. Flores

  Spencer fell to his knees as Justin’s parting words opened a hole in his heart.

  CHAPTER 43

  2010

  FOR the past few weeks, Spencer had tried not to think about the truth of Justin’s last words to him that day in his office. The truth of the accusations weighed heavily upon him for the first few days, but he had to push them aside because those words threatened to drive him crazy.

  He still had difficulty understanding Justin’s anger. After all, he wasn’t the adulterer. Justin was. Still, lingering paranoia about some hidden, unseen truth gnawed away at him from time to time, especially whenever he sat idle for too long, as he was doing now, waiting in his usual chair a few feet away from Dutch and his physical therapist, George.

  Focusing on something else or someone else’s problems proved easier than dealing with the mess he made of his life. So instead of falling into that well-known pit of despair, he focused on Dutch and his physical therapy regimen. Right now, George pushed Dutch’s limits, ordering him to take more steps between the parallel bars that had become Dutch’s enemy.

  Sweat poured off Dutch, staining the front of his yellow muscle shirt. The tendons in his neck fanned outward as he struggled to shuffle forward on unsteady legs while cursing both his lower extremities and George.

  “My fucking legs can’t do this! They’re useless, you motherfucking cunt!”

  As always, George took the abuse. He’d told Spencer a couple of months ago that being cussed out was a part of his job, and he didn’t take offense, even though some of the things Dutch called him were horrible.

  “Can’t you see I’m done, you worthless bitch? Or do you get your rocks off watching someone else in pain? I bet you go home and beat off to the torture you inflict on your patients.”

  Dutch progressed halfway between the parallel bars but then begged for his wheelchair. George refused the request, which elicited another string of profanity in response.

  While they argued, again, Spencer’s thoughts returned to Justin. It had been almost a month since their confrontation, and no one had seen him since.

  Spencer had stopped by the high school, but Gladys, Justin’s secretary, had no idea where Justin was, only that he’d called in sick for the rest of the semester. Apparently, Justin had used all his accrued sick days to take an extended leave from work. The school district wasn’t happy, according to Gladys, but Justin’s assistant principal kept them at bay. She reminded the superintendent of his excellent record of the past several years, which had spared his job for the time being. Spencer hoped Justin would return to work before the goodwill of upper administration wore out.

  Their friends were even less help in finding Justin, and they were all furious with Spencer for what he had done. Forcing Justin to move in with Dutch was an idiotic move in their eyes, and they agreed that Justin had every right to be angry, especially considering what they now knew about Spencer’s relationship with Dutch. Though they promised to let him know if they heard from Justin, Spencer doubted they would. After all, they’d kept Spencer’s whereabouts from Justin for months, so he figured turnabout was going to be fair play.

  Elena’s anger, though, was the hardest for Spencer to take. Through tear-stained eyes, she accused him of making her baby run away, not only from him but from her. She was lost without her son, whom she usually communicated with daily. Since his departure, she hadn’t heard from him, and the indisputable fear in her eyes for her son’s safety told Spencer she spoke the truth.

  Christmas came and went without a single word from Justin. Everyone now feared the worst. Next to New Year’s, Christmas was his favorite holiday. Spending time with his family and getting the house decorated for the special day always lit up Justin’s face, turning him into the little boy who anxiously awaited Santa Claus.

  When he missed Christmas, Elena went to the police. Unfortunately, a grown man who had a fight with his lover and took off didn’t rate high on their priority list. The officer handling the case promised to keep his eyes open but didn’t make any assurances beyond that.

  Spencer wanted to go down to the police station and throttle the officer, but Elena ordered him not to. He had done enough damage, according to her.

  Since then four days had passed and all Spencer could do was fret. He felt awful about what he had done. He wanted to make amends, to tell Justin he was sorry and try to once again explain the situation. He left numerous messages on Justin’s voice mail, begging him to call or come home. Justin never did, and since the mailbox on Justin’s cell phone was now full, Spencer could no longer leave messages for Justin.

  Dutch took Justin’s absence just as hard as he did. Over the past few weeks, his mood had worsened. A storm constantly raged inside his eyes as he berated himself for going along with Spencer’s plan. Dutch had always feared what Justin would do when he learned the whole truth about the two of them. He’d never expected for Justin to leave without a word to anyone, though.

  “Spencer, I need you to do me a favor,” George called from across the room.

  He stood up and walked over to them, grateful to be pulled away from his inner unrest. Dutch sat in his wheelchair behind the parallel bars, his body completely covered in perspiration. An angry scowl took up residence on his lips.

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  “I want you to stand at the opposite end of the bars,” George instructed.

  Spencer nodded and proceeded to his assigned place. “What now?” he asked. “You want me to show this big baby how it’s done?”

  George laughed while Dutch flipped Spencer off. “No, I want you to stand there and be Dutch’s inspiration.”

  “His what?”

  “Inspiration,” George repeated. He helped Dutch get to his feet even though he loudly protested being forced to stand again. “I want you to be the prize at the end of the road. What better incentive is there than to walk, on your own, into the arms of the man you love?”

  Spencer stood there quietly, unable to speak for a few moments. Dutch, too, stared at George with mouth agape. He looked just as stunned as Spencer. When the shock passed, he said, “Dutch and I aren’t an item.”

  “Oh, please,” said George. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s almost 2011 and not everyone is freaked out by two men in love.” He steadied Dutch on his feet. “I think it’s sweet how you bring him to all his appointments and wait here until he’s done. Some couples don’t do that for each other. Believe me, I know. I’ve seen husbands drop off wives and not return for them until two hours after our sessions have ended. Stupid punkass bastards.”

  “We aren’t a couple,” Dutch grunted as his full weight once again rested upon his arms. “Spencer’s just my ride.”

  “Really?” George asked, astonished. He glanced at Spencer and then back at Dutch. “The two of you talk and act like a couple. Hell, you remind me of me and my girlfriend, the way you like the same things and finish each other’s thoughts.”

  “We what?” Spencer asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “Just the other day,” George began while getting Dutch moving forward. “The two of you were quoting that movie to each other. You know, the one with Sally Field and Julia Roberts.”

  “Steel Magnolias?”

  “That’s the one,” George told Spencer. “My girlfriend loves that movie. I think it’s okay, but the two of you obviously love it. You even did the whole scene where Julia Roberts and Sally Field tell all them women that Julia Roberts has been on dialysis.”

  Spencer remembered that. It had happened two weeks ago, when George noticed some nasty cuts on Dutch’s arm. He had fallen off the bed and sliced himself on the corner of the bed stand. Almost on cue, he and Dutch started talking about nails being driven up his arm, the famous scene where the characters make light of a serious condition.

  Afterward, they’d started talking about the movie, quoting their favorite lines. They had been simply sharing a movie they loved, nothing more.

  “We
just both happen to like the movie,” Spencer said. “Yeah, there’s….”

  “Nothing more to it,” Dutch said, completing his thought.

  George laughed. “Whatever you boys say.” He completely let go of Dutch and stepped back. “You’re on your own now, Dutch. No wheelchair. No nothing from me. You gotta walk your lazy ass to Spencer.”

  Spencer watched the strain in Dutch’s eyes. His legs lifted and fell in short, somewhat steady movements. His hands shuffled forward on the parallel bars as he gripped them, white-knuckle tight, to keep him upright and moving forward.

  As Dutch approached, he thought about George’s words. He and Dutch had become friends. Certainly that was all there was to their relationship. There couldn’t be anything more, could there?

  Like I told you before, his father’s voice said, drifting upward once again. What you don’t see will knock you on your ass.

  His father’s statement startled him. Was there more to his feelings for Dutch? Did they go beyond merely friendship? Was there substance to Justin’s allegations?

  Do you almost sleep with all your friends? his father asked.

  Of course not, he replied. That was a mistake. A once- in-a-lifetime lapse in judgment.

  Once in a lifetime, huh? his father snorted. Then explain to yourself why you constantly pursued this man after the interview? You knew you were attracted to him from the start, but instead of going in the other direction, you went for it. You went for him despite the time you and Justin were investing in rebuilding a relationship you claimed to cherish. You sent numerous lunch invitations, just trying to get him alone. And when you finally did, when you were finally going to get him to fuck you, you backed out, supposedly because of Justin.

  There’s no supposedly about it. I was being faithful, Spencer refuted. To my partner.

  Physically, yes, his father agreed. Emotionally, no. Just like Justin said, not every spouse becomes friends with their husband’s mistress. Your mother never chummed up with any of mine. But you did. Despite what you knew.

  This is insane! I love Justin. Hell, even Dutch still loves Justin.

  You think? his father asked. If you two love Justin so much, why have the two of you been spending all these months together, getting to know each other?

  Spencer had no answer.

  I told you your plan was a mistake. I told you not to do this. You’ve created an even bigger mess than you had before. All the armor in the world won’t protect you from yourself.

  The last person Spencer needed protection from was from himself. His self-preservation safeguarded him from many of life’s problems before Justin. He was good at keeping himself safe.

  Besides, there was nothing more to his relationship with Dutch. True, they had a special connection, a bond he inexplicably felt, but that connection was based on friendship and mutual affinity.

  He wouldn’t deny his attraction to Dutch. He was an extremely attractive man. But his heart belonged to Justin. It had always belonged to Justin. Dutch posed no true threat to their union, no matter what his friends, his father, or even Justin thought.

  He knew his own mind and his own heart better than anyone else, and he resented anyone thinking their perceptions were more accurate than his own.

  Now you sound like Justin, his father’s voice accused before going quiet.

  “Fuck,” Dutch cursed. “I can’t do this!”

  Though confused by his father’s statement, Spencer put aside his internal monologue and focused on Dutch, who needed his help now more than ever. “You can do it,” he told Dutch. “I have faith in you.”

  As he stared into Dutch’s eyes, the bond that had previously existed between them grew taut and strengthened. A renewed determination descended quickly upon Dutch, almost as if someone turned on an internal switch.

  Dutch inched forward, drawing ever closer to him, the unseen tether pulling Dutch to him as if a force greater than the two of them were at work. After a few steps, sweat once again poured down Dutch’s body, and his muscles strained against the bars. But Spencer could see unflagging resolve inside Dutch. A new spark, never ignited before this moment, grew and consumed the entirety of his body, making him stronger than he ever was before.

  To Spencer’s surprise, Dutch released the bars and stood straight, on his own and without support. George cried out and rushed to Dutch’s side, fearful that Dutch would fall and injure himself.

  Spencer didn’t move. His faith in Dutch was complete. Dutch was going to do this. He was going to walk.

  With that faith, something unexpected happened. George’s cheers and the encouraging words from surrounding patients and therapists disappeared. Only the two of them remained in the room. The rest of the world simply ceased to be.

  Spencer felt strange. Charged with electricity, his body turned into a living lightning rod that had just been struck three times in rapid succession. He was caught, not in the middle of a natural storm, but within the path of an emotional hurricane that bore down upon him.

  The approaching storm front didn’t frighten him. No pressing need to scramble for safety elicited his feet to turn and run in the opposite direction. Instead, he stood his ground. What headed his way intended him no harm. In fact, in its center, in the eye of the hurricane, peace and serenity waited.

  As Hurricane Dutch drew ever closer, Spencer was incapable of movement, frozen in place, not out of fear but in anxious anticipation of what would come next. He hadn’t felt this way in years, not since the first time he saw Justin at The Bonham.

  Hauntingly familiar, the sensation brought back emotions and memories he hadn’t recalled with such clarity for far too long. The churning waters of the hurricane dredged up from the murky recesses of his memory the love and security that Justin had once buoyed within the sea of his heart. Those feelings, unfettered by pain and betrayal, once again drifted freely across the watery expanse. The icy freeze of the Arctic that had held dominion over his emotions in recent months gave way to the warmer, more tropical waters of the Caribbean.

  Within those waters, Dutch took one small step and then another. His feet and his body pointed toward Spencer, as if there were no other direction for him to go. His path, like a storm, had been charted. The air currents and the jet stream pushed him toward landfall, toward Spencer, standing on the other side, waiting to be overcome by the tempest that madly swirled around the two of them.

  From Dutch’s eyes, Spencer knew Dutch didn’t fear the storm he carried toward him either. No shadows troubled the crystal blue waters of his eyes. They stared straight at him, focused and clear. Though the winds of the storm howled and bellowed, the tranquility to be found within its heart sang sweetly to the both of them.

  Dutch now stood before him, resting on legs that were no longer shaky and no longer wobbled. Sweat dripped in vast quantities down his face and chest, matting his shirt to his skin. Still, a victorious smile rested on his lips like a beacon of light amidst the storm that continued to rage, that even now held them in its thrall.

  Buffeted on winds far stronger than the two of them, Spencer crossed the distance still separating him from Dutch. Dutch’s right hand greeted his cheek and hooked his chin, turning his head slightly to the right.

  They were now in the center of the storm, at the heart of the phenomenon that started at Dutch’s interview and then continued to grow over the course of their friendship. Everything they had shared, every experience and every event, was simply a precursor to this one event in their lives.

  The eventual colliding of the storm upon the land.

  In a moment that lasted a lifetime, their lips met, and the waves of Dutch’s storm engulfed the calm harbor where Spencer had previously resided and brought forth a rainstorm as refreshing as it was renewing to their troubled hearts and souls. As Dutch’s tongue rolled inside his mouth and as he breathed life into the storm, their bodies and their souls crashed together at last.

  And while they kissed and held onto each other, the winds of the
storm abated. The howling roar dulled to a serene breeze. When the winds died down completely, cheers and applause exploded within the room as the storm dissipated and returned them to the world they’d briefly left behind.

  They looked around as George applauded, congratulating Dutch on his progress. Tears flowed down the faces of several nurses and patients who were not only moved by Dutch finally being able to walk again but by the tender affection they’d just witnessed between the two of them.

  Spencer stood invigorated in the refreshing breeze, but in the back of his mind, he saw Justin, set adrift on the opposite side of the harbor from where he and Dutch now stood, a victim of their storm.

  What he and Dutch had just done defied explanation and proved to him that everyone else but him was right.

  A few moments before, he’d longed to reconnect with Justin. He’d wanted to explain his actions, to hopefully get Justin to understand the reasoning behind his covert manipulations and his continued relationship with Dutch. Those words would be meaningless now.

  Now he was uncertain about everything. The force that compelled him toward Justin a decade ago had just returned. But instead of pulling him to Justin, it brought him to Dutch.

  CHAPTER 44

  2010

  DUTCH hoped preparing dinner might allow his mind to find the answers to the questions that invaded his thoughts, but as he added the tablespoon of salt and half a teaspoon of oregano to the breadcrumbs he’d mixed previously, all he could focus on was kissing Spencer at the rehabilitation clinic earlier in the week.

  As he mercilessly beat an egg in his Pyrex bowl, he replayed the event over and over in his mind. His body had been exhausted from George pushing him that day, and he’d lacked any strength to continue the exercises. Despite his tired and aching muscles, despite the complete fatigue that weighed him down like a bag of stones, he released the bars and walked. His steps were slow and measured, but he knew he could do it, as if Spencer’s faith and encouragement somehow flipped on a switch in his brain that healed the remaining damage to his spinal cord.